schism
by recluse-writes
Summary: Whoever told you there was finality in death hasn't died yet. Or more accurately, they have died before and they don't remember their past lives. However, there are an unlucky few that do remember… Sasuke was one such soul.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: actually going to leave this as in-progress because i have fledgling ideas for this morsel

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Whoever told you there was finality in death hasn't died yet.

Or more accurately, they have died before and they don't remember their past lives. However, there are an unlucky few that do remember...

They carry the weight of their experiences - countless memories. Memories so potent that they bled into their new lives. Some souls lived and died violently, some souls loved and died passionately.

Sasuke was one such soul.

Though he had gone through many names, many lives, it seemed that suffering was to be threaded into his existence, no matter the time nor circumstance. He fell into the belief that to live is to suffer. (It was a rather bleak way to think.)

With enough experiences to drive a man insane, he's wrestled with all kinds of pain, but the worst of them was longing. See, physical pain was temporary. Wounds stitched themselves together and became scars, bruises faded, but longing? This sick infatuation?

It's lasted _lifetimes_.

He thought leaving would remedy this fixation, maybe the proverb was true and time did heal.

Except it doesn't; time just allows you to file unpleasant memories away in the folds of your cerebrum. And slowly, but surely, you distract yourself with menial tasks like making breakfast, going to work, filing taxes. Things that make you seem like a fully functional adult with their life put together.

None of that ever works, not really. Not at 2:57 AM, when the light of your clock glares accusingly at you for being awake and you're left alone with your thoughts, your conscious digging deep enough for it to hurt - unearthing old memories that twist your gut upon remembrance. Not when you're driving home and you think you catch a glimpse of midnight blue hair, but you're going fifty miles per hour and there's no way you could stop without causing a serious accident. Not when you're at the supermarket and you think you hear something that sounds remotely similar to "Hinata" so you frantically comb through each aisle with the perverse hope that you heard correctly.

For all of his efforts, he was wildly unsuccessful. He came to realize this when he ran into the one person he simultaneously longed to be with for eternity and never wanted to see again.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: oho, thank you all for your lovely feedback! here's another chapter bc your reviews give me life and the energy to write~

(also i'm on break and will hopefully have a few more updates while i'm freeee)

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This cycle was... different.

Sasuke let the October chill pass through him and settle into his bones. He had forgotten how cold Konoha could be in autumn.

It would have been his birthday today. His best friend, his brother, would have turned twenty-four on October 10th. The dobe would have thrown a party for himself, inviting all of the strange people he managed to become friends with. Instead, the man was six feet beneath the ground, flowers crowning his gravestone.

The shock upon receiving the news of Naruto's death had abated months ago, but the feeling of loss lingered. There was also an undercurrent of guilt, likely present because he did not attend the funeral service.

He had his reasons for skipping out on the memorial. Namely one specific reason.

The Uchiha sat on the coarse grass and traced his fingertips over the lettering on the marble slab. The marble was smooth, cold. Expensive. Iruka, Kakashi, and Tsunade probably split the cost, wanting the best for the son they never had.

Though he knew he would see the rambunctious blonde again, nostalgia emphasized the grief he waded in.

In every life, without fail, Naruto kept him from plunging into complete self-loathing and destruction. His teen years were the hardest, with memories returning like nightmare sequences. When he wandered too close to the edge, he would be pulled back to safety. Like a child precariously walking along a cliff side, uncaring for the consequence of an eighty foot drop. If Sasuke was the child, then Naruto was the concerned parent; guiding him away from certain doom, sometimes dragging him back, kicking and screaming.

The distant rustle of plastic traveled through the silent cemetery and he looked up.

Her glassy eyes met his across many rows of graves and despite their distance, he could spot the tear tracks down her cheeks.

He froze. His heart caught in his throat, thinking made impossible. For seeing her so many times, he always had the same initial reaction. Her real, physical image knocked the wind out of him and the memories he had painstakingly filed away were forcefully excavated. Flashes from old lives were superimposed onto his field of vision, opaque movies projected onto the present.

The questioning in the familiar lavender hue tugged his heart back down to his chest and made him take a sharp breath.

He had to go.

His hand fell from the cool marble as he stood abruptly and strode in the other direction, away from her.

She was consistently shorter than him so maybe she wouldn't be able to catch up-

The rustling grew louder and a gentle hand gripped his arm, hindering his escape.

"W-wait..." she was slightly short of breath.

He should really keep walking, she would probably think he was an asshole and get the message to leave him alone.

Who was he kidding? Hinata wouldn't think he was an asshole, just that he was having a bad day. Because that was her specialty: seeing the best in the worst of people.

Instead of leaving, he found himself turning to face her. He was weak, unable to deny her request. It seemed some things didn't change.

"How did you know him?" she asked softly. "I didn't see you at the... the service."

Coal eyes bore into hers. There was never any recognition in her gaze, but that didn't mean he would stop looking for it.

As per usual, it wasn't there this time either. Rather than the recognition he wished to find, he was met with poorly concealed mourning. His fingers twitched reflexively, itching to wipe all evidence of crying from her face and to smooth the sorrow out of her brow.

Reminding himself of where he was and why he was there, he racked his brain for a response to placate her.

In his hesitation, she filled in the gap for him. "Are you Uchiha Sasuke?"

His heart stopped for the second time that day and his stare gained intensity. Could it be? Could she have actually remembered him this time?

Was the curse broken?

She identified the shock in his features and was quick to explain, "Naruto would mention his best friend, Sasuke, but none of us have actually met you."

He nodded weakly. Of course. That made perfect sense, there was no reason for things to be different this time - he was the only one who was damned.

A watery smile lit up her face. "It's unfortunate we had to meet under these circumstances..." she trailed off before shaking her head. "Ah, where are my manners? I'm Hinata."

She balanced a plastic-wrapped bouquet in her left arm and stuck out her other hand. The flower arrangement in her grip was composed of forget-me-nots and lilacs; they stood for remembrance and first love. The irony was not lost on him.

He grasped her hand like a drowning man, desperate and needy, holding on for a moment longer than necessary.

"It's nice to meet you, Hinata."

Even if this cycle didn't turn out to be any different from the others, he could only hope that it would.


End file.
